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    Summary

    Suho can't get enough of Sieun—whether it be his presence or his touch, whether Sieun's far away or sitting right next to him, none of it matters; He feels starved of it and scared to lose it.

    "Behind the door, Sieun's standing there, in gray sweats and a thin t-shirt that shows so much, too much of his chest. But no– that's not what makes Suho's breath falter.

    “You’re...You!” Suho gestures to his own eyes, fanning a hand over them.

    “Oh…” Suho’s pouts, embarrased. “I only wear them when I’m home.”

    Sieun’s fingers reach for the glasses on the bridge of his nose, just about to pull them off, sheepish, now that Suho's staring at him like that.

    Suho lets out a scoff and takes Sieun by the wrist, stopping him from pulling them off. He tugs Sieun against him and leans down just enough to press his lips against Sieun's.

    Language:
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